[The previous account of Stevie and his clones can be found in Me and My Nineteen (Remaining) Clones]
18 November 2025 – These have been some dark times for me and my eighteen clones. No, not because Fredward’s aorta went up like the Challenger – it’s November, and these jerk clones never let one pass without reminding me how I can’t grow facial hair worth a damn! Try as I might, after all these years, I still can only manage an ugly, inconsistent patchwork of clumps. I don’t even bother anymore, but these sons of bitches go all out for this Movember thing, just to jam it to me! Dicks! Even Hensonite! We figured he couldn’t possibly grow anything on his Muppety face – and look at that argyle beard of his! It’s amazing!
We haven’t had any deaths in the past ten weeks, so that’s a positive, but Kinescope has started to flicker out from time to time. It’s like we’re getting bad reception on the antenna and can’t pick up my former-doppelganger-turned-George-Raft twin all the time. When he comes back in tune, he doesn’t recognize that time has passed, but the signal is weaker with each return, and the Kinescope that returns to us is a little…less. He’s gone right now, matter of fact. Two days, its been. Which sucks, as he’s the only other one that can’t grow a beard anymore, which is a shame, because he used to have a glorious mustache. No one is sure why this changed.
We did experience another rather amazing mutation. The scientists were very excited anyway. One night, Georange – always very athletic and energetic, at least by clone standards – was complaining about some weird ache in his stomach. We all blamed the pizza (shouldn’t have gotten that extra falafel on it, we figured), and went to bed. When we got up, in Georange’s pull out closet hammock, we found a bobblehead, dressed like the grim reaper (see picture above). We thought it was a joke at first, that he was yanking our cranks, but sure enough, the bobblehead yawned, asked who was making the waffles, and scared the living shit out of Dantopia. He’s not super mobile (his legs are fused together), but he can still put away a mad thimble full of Dewar’s, plus he knows more euphemisms for filthy sexual positions than anyone I’ve ever met. Classic Georange!
One thing I feel the need to digress and address – there has been a great deal of speculation in the news recently that there may only be seventeen remaining clones, and not the eighteen that I claim. Only seventeen names are ever mentioned on this blog, and our website live feed show never features all eighteen Stevies. Here now, let me list everyone who lives here, whether they are all here at the same time or not (clones travel too, you know), just to clear the air:
There’s me, Stevie. I don’t have a number, as I’m the original. There’s #2 Jackwagon, #4 Hensonite, #5 Dantopia, #9 Tomfoolery, #12 Kinescope, #14 Kevincible, #17 Matrick, #18 Georange, #20 Vitoadie, #23 Bobtail, #28 Coryander, #35 Tedward, #36 Capicola, #40 Junior, #43 Sweetness, #46 Delano, and #48 Magnus. That’s eighteen. Good?
19 November 2025 – A very strange series of events took place today, something I’m not entirely sure I’m prepared to discuss. Last night I was taking a shower and…well, here, the internet cameras grabbed a picture:
They have no regard for privacy. I yelled at them to piss off, but they just laughed and hung around and I had to weave my naked way out of the room to dry off and get dressed. And I didn’t think anything more about it, until this morning.
We found Magnus, still sitting on the toilet, still brushing his teeth. No one remembered seeing him in his sleeping bag behind the couch overnight, and his gums were in pretty bad shape. And he wouldn’t stop, no matter how much we yelled. He also totally destroyed that toothbrush, but thank goodness we’ve got extras (see picture above). The scientists insist we document everything bizarre that happens, so Magnus and his incessant dental care were examined at length.
We finally pried the toothbrush out of his hand, and he ceased with the motion, but he wouldn’t move. He wouldn’t talk. We had to clear the foam and spittle out of his jaws so he wouldn’t choke to death, which in and of itself was no easy task, but his legs wouldn’t straighten, his body was immobile as a statue. He just sat there, staring, unblinking, unresponsive. The scientists had us clear out, afraid he was going to blow like the others. But it didn’t happen. Time went by. We were hold up two blocks away at the Red Roof Inn, but the internet feed still showed Magnus, stuck in place.
It’s now almost midnight. The clones are on edge, which is understandable. No one understands how their bodies are aging, why some of them spontaneously explode, or how these bizarre mutations are possible. But poor Magnus, it appears it’s going to be a wait and see situation. He’s still alive, we think. He’s just stuck somehow, caught in some sort of coma, and only half in reality, not unlike Kinescope, really.
The nature of our existence requires coming to grips with these things, as it’s all pretty inexplicable and new. But it doesn’t make it any less sad.
UPDATE: 25 November 2025 – Unfortunately, no changes in Magnus. A new bathroom is being constructed for daily use, as Magnus has proven immovable, and the clones are totally against his removal by any unnatural means, given that he is technically still alive.
Also, our Twitter account has been totally besieged by people claiming that only seventeen clones were listed along with myself last time, and that this still doesn’t give account for the eighteenth clone. Get over it.